Undeath
by Neeros
Summary: Atticus Odin is a young Nord with the dream to follow in the footsteps of Shalidor or even Magnus himself. Except some dreams can quickly become nightmares. Would you go to any lengths and travel the darkest paths in order to save the world? The power to change the status quo always has a price. - Necromancy, Dragons, Drama, and plenty of Murder.
1. Necromancer's Moon

Necromancer's Moon

* * *

The icy winds of Winterhold had almost sapped the last of my strength as I dropped to one knee in front of the Frozen Hearth Inn. A burst of adrenalin hit me as I realized I wasn't going to die in that frozen wasteland after all. I scrambled up the porch and practically fell through the door. I couldn't wait to rip my gloves off, and I stumbled over to the hearthfire barely aware of my surroundings. The tips of my fingers were beginning to turn blue, any longer and I might have been in serious trouble. I was an idiot for trying to make the journey on foot. My vision began to darken. So tired… I told Boti that I would be fine, "My Nord blood will keep me warm!" I bellowed with the arrogance of youth as I cursed her and left that thrice damned town. I had never been too far from home in Ivarstead. I grew up working on Fellstar farm after all.

Whatever came before that was lost to my infant memory, but I was told that my parents were eaten by Draugr and I was left for dead, too small to be a good meal. I have never been sure what to make of that story. It sounds like a sick joke meant to torture my dreams, but no one has ever contradicted it, maybe the whole town was in on the joke. I did everything on that farm, but for some reason I was never really welcome. Soon after I turned eighteen I came in from the fields, and after washing the day off myself Boti walked over and handed me a pack with some nice looking clothes and a hundred septims. "Go to college," Boti said, "make something of your worthless self," she said. Well, I knew which college she meant, but I chose another path. I knew what I had to do, after all… He always told me I could be great if I kept pursuing the arcane arts.

Now I was alone in the dark. Rotting corpses were strewn about all around me, gore was all I could see. The rancid stench of decay filled my nose and I didn't bother to hold back the rising sensation. There was so much blood, everywhere. It covered me too. Then the bodies began to rise up and stand once again, they moaned and screamed, they surrounded me, filling my vision. Their shredded flesh wasted away till only shambling skeletons remained. Clawing. Gnashing. Digging into my flesh. I was buried in death and the worms crawled in.

* * *

I must have passed out because I woke up in a very warm bed, a comfort that was disturbed by two voices arguing outside.

"He would have died, did you want me to just let it happen?"

"No, Nelacar, of course not, but you know I don't like you using magic in the common room. Try a potion next time maybe?"

Nelacar, I assumed, scoffed a weary dismissal, as though the argument was an old one. "It seems our friend is awake." I could hear footsteps as he approached and forced the last of the sleep from my mind. With some focus of will I sat up in the bed just as a tall elf in shimmering robes came around the corner with a grim smile on his face.

"You nearly died young man." He said it as if he were reading a copy of the Courier. Just reporting a simple and unbiased fact.

"Well, I don't die easy." I said, trying to sound more confident than I felt.

"It seems so, yes. I hope you don't mind, I had to use restoration magic to heal the frostbite.

"I don't mind, I know a couple spells myself," He seemed to perk up at this, so I continued, "I came to Winterhold to join the College. Are you a member? Can you help me get in?"

Nelacar looked mildly disgusted for a moment then scoffed, "No, the College and I had a falling out quite some time ago. I stay here to be near my contacts, otherwise finding the necessary equipment and reagents for my experiments would be much too troublesome."

"Alright then, could you at least point me in the right direction?" I asked hopefully.

"Just rest for awhile longer, it isn't quite midday yet…" Before he could finish whatever it was he wanted to say I was already up and running out of the Inn. Too much of the day wasted already. He shouted after me but didn't follow. Good man. I figured I'd have to think of some way to reward him later.

I was there. Finally. I could see the College rising above the ruined hold. It grew as I sped past a surprised looking guard. Just a hundred paces ahead was an archway leading to a bridge. One moment I was running towards my destiny and the next I was looking up at the cloudy sky. My arse ached from the impact with hard ice when the guard grabbed me by the hood of my cloak..

"Hold Citizen, what has you bolting out of the inn towards that place like a thief?" He nodded to the archway. Seriously? This guard just… But before I could properly conjure a response to the bastard, a burst of magic sailed past my shoulder and connected with the Guards forehead. His eyes glazed over.

A female voice accompanied the unexpected spell. "This one is not your concern." She was a rather stern looking high elf, her eyes were a brilliant shade of violet that only accentuated the pale golden skin of her high cheekbones. She was beautiful in a dangerous way, like the icy tundra itself, and her robes were so clean they almost shone, or maybe that was some sort of magic.

The guard seemed to nod off for a moment before catching himself and began to turn away only to look back at me over his shoulder, "If I catch your hand in any pockets I will cut it off." What was with this guy? That power though. That was the sort of power that appealed to me. The power to be unassailable.

"Don't mind the locals... what was your name?" The elf lady asked me.

"I'm Atticus, Atticus Odin. Thank you, I've never seen a guard act like that before." I was puzzled still to say the least.

"Most don't," She replied "But the locals have a deep-rooted hatred for the college and anything associated with it. The usual Nord mistrust of Magicka runs deeper here than anywhere else. What with the Collapse and all…" She explained as though about to begin a history lecture.

"I am here to join the College, may I enter?" I interjected, and suddenly she was focused on me with razor acuity. I felt like she was judging everything about me from my haircut to the now travel worn clothes I got as a parting gift.

"Perhaps, but we don't let just anyone join. What makes you qualified to walk these halls?" Her gaze was as sharp as her words.

"I am not completely unschooled." I told her simply, and, well, as I was always told, 'Actions speak louder than words,' so I focused just like he taught me and grasped onto just enough of my power… There was an explosion of purple energy, then a wash of warmth and light came over us. "Meet Auri, Auri this is…I am sorry, I didn't get your name…?" I thought I heard a woman gasp in shock back along the road. It seemed someone saw my little display.

I could tell the elf was mildly impressed by the ever so slight quirk of her eyebrow, "Not many can control those without a binding focus. I am Faralda, Professor of Destruction, welcome to the College of Winterhold, you may enter." She crossed her arms and her face settled back into its natural resting position. There was no other change in her cold demeanor.

Nodding to the Professor I walked onwards through the archway and onto the path of destiny. Auri flipped and twirled through the air playfully as she followed me. The conjuring of this feisty little fire elemental was my crowning achievement thus far. I could tell she was happy to be free from Oblivion, even for just a moment.

The way across was as beautiful as it was dangerous, fountains of magicka were rising up at intervals along the bridge. They shot blue rays of light towards the heavens like geysers of pure aetherius. They illuminated the sky around the college, highlighting the grand towers that reached to the clouds as a symbol of the power contained within Skyrim.

The bridge though seemed as if it were made of unstable rubble spanning a thousand yards below to a frosty tundra of death. I nearly backed down from crossing if I am being brutally honest. A part of me figuring that the mages here had some trick for not succumbing to the fierce winds that would hurl them to the icy rocks below. Yet, as I placed one foot onto the broken bridge it shimmered and became whole again. I crossed easily and could almost hear Faralda smirking. "Look for Mirabelle Ervine!" She called out from behind me as an afterthought.

I stopped for a moment before the large wrought iron gates, formed within the curving iron was the symbol of the College. A fierce looking eye surrounded by a starburst. He mentioned the symbol once. The courtyard of the College was unlike anything I had ever seen, the central tower seemed to rise endlessly into the sky, upon its height again was that all seeing eye set into stained glass. It was gazing down upon all of Winterhold. No, all of Skyrim. As I walked forward the gates opened then slammed shut behind me as I passed through. I ran back but the gates seemed to open slightly as I neared them. Reassured I wasn't trapped I continued on.

A giant statue of who I could only assume was Shalidor or maybe even Magnus himself stood in defense of the great doors leading into the main spire. Such magnificence could only be created by powerful magic. Alas, I could not enjoy it for long because a heated argument soon filled my awareness. The woman was middle aged by the streaks of white hair across her temples held back into what was a very tight bun, yet had a smooth and ageless face. She wore sensible robes of earthen colors. As I walked off to the side I saw that her bright eyes were focused on the dandy of an Altmer in black robes with gold trim in front of her. It sounded like they were arguing over his level of access to the college. Strange.

She shooed him away after a few platitudes and turned her attention to me. "Who are you? Are you lost young Nord?" I must have scowled because she grew tense and straightened up to her highest height, ready for another argument.

"Sorry, No, I am not lost. I have come to learn. Faralda? She tested me and granted me entrance." I forced my voice to be polite as I answered.

"Truly?" She looked relieved, those bright eyes focused on me now. "Then you have come to the right place, and the right time as well. I am Mirabelle Ervine, Deputy Headmistress of the College. There is about to be a class on defensive magic with Master Tolfdir, don't let him fool you, he is the greatest Alteration Master in Skyrim." She pointed to the great double doors leading into the massive tower. "He should be starting soon in the Hall of the Elements, if you hurry you'll just make it. If you can find me after class I will help you get situated." She didn't need to tell me twice, with a nod I jogged over to the great doors and pushed my way into the Hall.

The Hall of Elements is enormous. You have to see it for yourself in order to understand. Any story, description, or depiction of it's grandeur falls far short of the actual thing. To be standing there in the center of true power. It was intoxicating. What mead could compare to the sweet nectar of pure unbridled magic, power more than ten thousand Nordic warhorses. I drank it in and reveled. In the center of the Hall was the largest fountain of magicka yet. An impressive spiral staircase ascended around the stream of blue light to the higher levels. 'Explore later Atticus.' I said to myself as I dropped my pack and furs in an alcove by the entrance.

I gazed around in wonder at the many orbs of condensed magic that seemed to emanate from plinths along the wall, each orb was being contained by two gyrating rings alight with glowing runes. They were set at regular intervals around the circular hall, aone bricks behind each one were well worn by layers of scorchmarks and potholes. Practice targets maybe.

An elderly wizard with dark gray hair and a beard to match was waving frantically at three students in white mage robes who were talking amongst themselves and ignoring him. "Gather 'round Apprentices! Today we will be covering defensive magic." Finally he spoke loud enough that the other apprentices shut up. "Can anyone tell me the function of a ward?" The old man looked slightly lost, as if he was forgetting something important.

A Khajiit with white and tan fur shot his paw up "J'zargo knows!" he was practically bouncing in place. The old mage sighed.

"Go ahead J'zargo. Gift us with your vast experience." The professor said, somehow managing to sound both interested and condescending at the same time.

What followed was a lengthy explanation that I mostly missed out on, but I perked up when he started talking about his own experiences. "J'zargo knows what he is talking about, when you harness the magicka and begin forming the surface of the ward it can falter and collapse if magicka placement is uneven. J'zargo may have lost a whisker experimenting," His feline face twitched into a slight snarl at the memory, "but if the ward can charge evenly then it will build to greater and greater power. Assuming Shalidor's eighteenth law of…" I missed the rest as I suddenly found myself preoccupied by an idea the catmage had given me.

Thank Magnus for small favors, Professor Tolfdir cut him off after only five minutes, or was it fifteen? "That is enough for now J'zargo, after such a… thorough… explanation of theory I think we are all ready to try something practical. Everyone, grab a partner." Then he turned to me, "You, partner with me for a moment, will you?" He seemed far too eager, "It would be best to demonstrate this. You can cast a ward, can you not?"

"My name is Atticus Odin, and yes sir, I can cast a ward," I said simply. This was my first chance to show I had talent.

"Very good, cast it and hold it up, I want to show the class something very important. Go ahead, just stand right over there and cast it, you wouldn't want to get your eyebrows singed off."

I stood opposite to him and began casting my ward, it put a moderate strain on my power reserves, but I could hold it for a fair amount of time, my mentor made sure of that. Then Tolfdir started talking.

"Continuing with the theme of safety it is important to know the realities of a ward. When your opponent has a ward up, it will put strain on his power. No one has limitless power. The best thing to do when your opponent has a ward up is…"

He let the moment draw out. The modest pool of swirling light and darkness that filled my magicka reserves was seeping away as the moments passed in silence. We all eagerly awaited for him to cast a powerful spell that would shatter my shield into Oblivion.

"…nothing." As he spoke the word the hold I had on my power began to wane. My ward flickered once, then again, by the third time it was too late. His paralysis spell had already slipped into the cracks that formed before I could even blink. Gods, it truly wasn't my day. I began to tip over, quite helpless to stop myself, but he snapped his fingers and I regained control of my body. I stumbled slightly but maintained my footing.

"That was a damned good trick sir, my turn?" It's good to admit when one is bested, but I vowed to get one up on Professor Tolfdir someday.

"Hah!" He sounded amused, "Perhaps, let us see how you all do in this lesson. It is important to realize that we cannot rely on wards alone. At some point the ward will falter and our safe haven will disappear." He took one step back up onto the outer walkway and continued, "Now pair up, one of you will cast a magelight spell and the other will avoid it or block it with their ward. If you don't know how to cast a ward or a light spell you can ask me or your partner. Please carry on." Tolfdir crossed his arms and his eyes glazed over as he muttered to himself about an alembic before walking off. That was ok by me.

I turned to face my classmates and I noticed the big fellow was glowing in various places on his chest and face. He was struggling to charge his ward while J'zargo kept slipping in his spells every time. Then a polite cough caught my attention.

A young-looking, because who can really tell with elves, lady with crimson eyes and skin like the dark blue haze of midnight was now staring me down with a blank expression. It took me a moment to realize what she wanted. I actually had never met an elf before that day and now I had met three, four if you count the gaudy one that ran off sneering.

"Uhh," I stammered, "Would you like to start, or shall I?" I began awkwardly. In response she cast a glowing ball magic at me that struck my brow. I flinched, blinded by the light. If that was how she wanted to play it, I drew up a ward to block her next shot and sent a light of my own in almost the same path hers had travelled. I was rewarded by a grunt of surprise. It sounded like my spell had likewise blinded her. Two faint pops a few moments later and the lights flickered out.

"Not bad Nord. I am Brelyna Maryon, you are Atticus? Yes?" She was silent after that, but our pace never faltered. She attacked twice and then I attacked twice. It went like that back and forth, neither one of us succumbing to our magical fatigue. We were dodging around what we couldn't shield against, twisting and strafing from side to side trying to gain the upper hand.

I am not sure how long we practiced, but we eventually ran out of energy and ceased our dance, panting for breath as we stared into each others eyes. Then we both noticed J'zargo and the other guy watching us…I decided to take the diplomatic route.

"Hello, I am Atticus, who might you be?" I called over to the man who looked like he would have fit in better with the legion than the college.

"Onmund." He was a bit terse, but a fellow Nord then with that name, thought so. "Come on Brelyna, J'zargo, let's go to the Arcaneum and study." That suited me fine, he must have slept with a skeever in his sheets.

"Well, J'zargo is surprised. And pleased! There is real competition here. This is good." The catmage commented as he moved to follow Onmund, his tail swishing back and forth happily.

I was already so lost in my thoughts that I hardly noticed the lingering gaze of Brelyna as they made their way towards what I assumed was the library. I completely failed to notice that Brelyna didn't follow them up.

I preferred to study alone. I've always been alone really, no one in Ivarstead could have possibly understood what it was like for me growing up. Boti called me a freak for all the strange things that seemed to happen around me I got angry or sad, and she only got worse once I learned how to actually control the magic. If it weren't for him I would have gone insane years ago.

He was the only person to understand me. Falion was the only person in my life to see me for what I am. He saw my potential when no one else would. I was lucky enough to meet him when he came through Ivarstead on a Pilgrimage to High Hrothgar. He never did say if he actually spoke with the Greybeards or not, in fact he was oddly silent about his whole journey up the mountain. I never pressed, always afraid that he would realize I was as worthless as Boti insisted I was. He saved me in more ways than one. I grew up in the shadow of the Throat of the World, so sitting outside on the rocks next to the river and passing the time by listening to the Voice of the Greybeards booming down from up high was a daily ritual for me. Thus, I was blessed with childhood dreams that took me far away from the drudgery of farm life. There I was seated in the clouds with my brother monks, like gods, high above mortal concerns, learning the power of the Voice... I knew I never stood a chance though. Everyone knew that they stopped taking in apprentices years ago. Everyone knew why as well, Ulfric Stormcloak was an oathbreaker. Maybe Skyrim doesn't deserve the Voice. After meeting Falion though I have only ever wanted one thing, to master the Arcane Arts, to 'Walk the Path of Magnus' as Falion told me once. Falion did save my life.

I was younger, angry, and very ready for a fight. A growl echoed out of the cave that I was about to enter. It likewise sounded ready for a fight, so I did what any red-blooded Nord would do, I growled back. I could only see a few paces in before darkness consumed my vision. This was My cave. Pinepeak Cavern had been my retreat for years, since I was old enough to go exploring around the village on my own. Well, now I was old enough to use an axe as a weapon. I thought a wolf had gotten separated from its pack and decided to hole up in there. Gritting my teeth until my jaw ached I sparked the flint and lit my torch. "Here it goes" I muttered before stepping in.

Moisture from the Sun's Height snowmelt was dripping in through the cracks in the ceiling forming mud that I carelessly stepped through to go deeper into the dark. It was too dark, but soon I knew the floor would be stone. Even the torch had a tough time keeping up with the dark. Panic shot through me as I spun to my left when another growl roared out unseen. A growl that distinctly did not sound wolfish now that I was closer. The realization scared me out of my mind. I could feel tears in my eyes and a dread creeping up on me, yet I quested on. After only a dozen more paces or so a huge shadow broke free from the darkness and charged toward me. I lashed out with my ax and I felt it stick into something as the mass struck me. I must have flown clear from the cave because when I shook myself back to reality I was in the daylight again. Out of the cave charged a huge bear, and it swiped its giant paw right towards my face.

The paw never connected, all I saw was purple and black light, then a giant icicle was between me and my certain death. As I looked up I noticed that the giant icicle was connected to an even more giant, ice, thing. The Ice Thing shook with anticipation and charged at the bear that had taken a few steps back in surprise, holding its foreleg up in pain, I noticed my axe head was still buried in the bears left shoulder, the shaft snapped clean off.

"Don't worry my boy, Vrangrserker will make short work of that little beastie. You did a number on it yourself." The Redguard began to examine me and asked if I was feeling any head injury. He seemed so unconcerned about the bear that I nearly forgot about the life and death battle that took place a short distance away. "He is a Frost Atronach. Do you know what the Atronach are?" He asked, perhaps to pass the time while he began to do, something, to my head. I shook my head no and immediately regretted the movement, he just smirked and continued. "Well, I suppose no one except the gods know what Daedra actually are, but Atronach are elemental beings that can be summoned from Oblivion. They have minimal intelligence but are capable of intense emotion. Where are my manners?" He laughed a bit as though admonishing himself. "I am Falion, it's a good thing I was passing by on my way up the seven thousand steps." A terrible groan of death made me glance over in time to see the beast collapse into a broken and battered pile. I could have sworn the Frost Atronach looked pleased with itself as it melted back to Oblivion.

Once I was tended he brought me back to Boti's house before continuing his pilgrimage. I was dejected thinking I would never see him again. This man had power. Real power. It was like the old stories of Shalidor come to life! My excitement was only overpowered by the sick feeling that I had missed my chance to learn more about that man who could command Daedra so easily.

To my immense surprise he came back a week later and offered to educate me. He had decided to stay in Ivarstead for a short while, said there was business he had to take care of in Shroud Hearth Barrow, so I asked no more questions - that place was haunted. Over the next few months I read more books than I even knew existed. He taught me many wondrous things. Lore and herbalism, how to summon my will and gather my spirit to shape spells. He called it magicka. I conjured flares of fire and summoned icy winds. I learned the basic theory of healing. He tested my magicka control by having me cast wards. Eventually I even managed to summon a Fire Atronach after much careful study of summoning circles and formulae. At first Falion was angry that I attempted something so advanced behind his back, but then he relented and said he was proud when I showed I could control it without any trouble. It was the best time of my life. One bright afternoon he said I was ready to strike out on my own and left, then I was alone again.

I snapped out of my reverie when I noticed I stood in the middle of the courtyard where I had met Professor Ervine. She was no where to be found now, so I wandered on deciding to explore on my own. The College was truly stunning, both sides of the courtyard were lined by greenhouses that seemed to contain a large variety of magical herbs and fungi. Then I noticed a large wooden door down one of the walkways around the grounds of the college and decided it was as good a direction as any. I made my way over and was about to step through when a voice stopped me in my tracks.

"Not that one, that is the Hall of Countenance where the advanced students and professors work and sleep. You don't want to go poking about in there, you might kill yourself by accident on some random experiment. This way to the Hall of Attainment, it's where we mere apprentices and other guests of the College sleep." I noticed the Dunmer woman from earlier, Brelyna, walking towards me, she waved her hand to follow and turned about without another word or indication whether she actually cared if I followed her or not. We went back around the walkway and through a similarly large wooden door, the first thing I noticed was another beautiful magicka fountain in the center with its billowing power stretching up to the heights of the tower.

She pointed to a door half ajar to our right and said, "This is your room I suppose, it's the only empty one after Gerald jumped from the bridge."

"Uhh, jumped?" I asked dumbfounded.

"Yes, the poor bastard. We told him not to go into the midden." She held her gaze to mine.

"The midden?" What on Nirn was that I wondered.

"Don't go down there. Trust me. It is cursed." That was all she said before gesturing me through the door.

I walked in and the door slammed shut behind me. I spun around and sighed, the doors and gates in this place really had me on edge. I ignored that though in favor of the bed that looked so incredibly comfortable, and it had sheets! Actual sheets, not just old smelly furs on a hard cot… A small end table had a spread of fruits sitting on a platter next to a bottle of mead. I figured that this place was as close to Sovngarde as I would ever likely get. In the corner was a desk with a random assortment of crystals on it. I didn't recognize them, but they seemed to draw my gaze, I found myself staring at one that was pitch black and so beautiful…

A shocking jolt ran through my back and down my leg before grounding into the floor. I jumped and spun back towards the door only to see Brelyna standing there with her index finger pointing up to the ceiling just in front of her face. Weak currents still ran up her hand and curled around her fingertip which was even smoking slightly, she just blew the tendrils away with a slight puff of breath before letting go of the power.

Her face was all poorly hidden amusement, "Be careful, that isn't a normal soul gem, in fact I have no idea why it was left in here. I saw Phinis Gestor, the Conjuration Professor come in to clear out the room weeks ago."

"What? What's a soul gem?" I felt stupid for having to ask. Falion never mentioned them.

If she thought I was ignorant it didn't show, "Soul gems are naturally occurring precious stones that are used to house the vital life essence of creatures that are killed while under the influence of a soul trapping spell. This stored energy can be used for a large variety of magical rituals and operations. We each get an allowance of them when we first join, but not typically those." She nodded toward the dark stone.

"So, what is different about this one?" I glanced to the dark gem that sat among the bright ones. Whirlpools of darkness in the stone drew my gaze yet again.

"That is a 'Black Soul Gem' you see when a Soul Gem of the highest caliber is… altered by certain Dark Arts what results is a gem that is capable of trapping a fully conscious and sentient spirit. No race of man nor mer are immune to this. They are very dangerous - capable of trapping portions of the soul of those who mishandle them." I backed away from my desk immediately. The thought of finding my soul trapped eternally inside a stone was such a horrible fate that it sickened me.

"Take it, get it out of here!" I yelled. It had been trying to draw me in after all.

I looked over and saw she had a small smile on her face, "Don't be such a…what is the term you Nords are so fond of, ah, 'Milkdrinker?' It can't hurt you right now, it is fully empty. It must be partially filled to cause such damage to your soul. As far as I know only one person in this college deals in such items. Best to leave the matter be though."

I felt myself calming down at first, but then I looked back up in anger, "Then why in oblivion did you shock me?"

"It was fun." She simply said before turning around and walking out.

I heard myself muttering curses as I picked up the damned gem and stuffed it into the drawer of the desk then slammed it shut. I pocketed one of the smaller, normal ones and left to go find the library, I knew that I wouldn't survive here if I remained ignorant.

* * *

Ravens cawed out into the darkness as they circled high around a tower that seemed to stretch far up into the night. A chorus of chanting voices echoed throughout the forest as a Breton man in well-worn robes of black and crimson cloth with buckled straps across his chest stood before an altar. His eyes were rimmed with exhaustion, he had obviously not slept in days or weeks. Surrounding him and the altar were five men and women in dark robes with faint green skulls painted on them, their faces went unseen with dark hoods pulled low.

Their combined voices reached a crescendo of power and an orb of light began to descend from the heavens, a ray came forth touching the altar with divine power. At this they went silent and he plucked a green potion from his belt and chugged it down before tossing the bottle aside.

"The Necromancer's Moon!" Cried the crazed man as he wiped his mouth with a sleeve. "The Altar of the Revenant is active once again!" His eyes were wide with the furious madness of devotion. "The King of Worms is with us this night! To witness this land as it is quenched by the blood of the innocent. Eternal life is within our grasp!"

Two more large men in robes and hoods that masked their faces dragged a young woman out of the tower and placed her before the altar then retreated away several paces into the night. She struggled but could not free herself from the bindings. Her eyes shone with terror and fate as she beheld the congregation.

"May the light be darkened by your power." He placed a shining Grand Soul Gem onto the altar and the infernal light in the sky surged and swirled, then all were blinded for a moment as lightning flashed down. When the world cleared, upon the altar sat a Black Soul Gem.

The leader of the group took the gem up and raised it high to the sky with both hands before holding it to his chest as if he cradled a precious infant. He looked down at the bound girl, seeming to have just now noticed her. He sneered, and his face went from rapturous to hateful. "The Revenant will take you now!" He snarled at her.

She tried to scream, oh did she try so hard, her throat was raw with pain, but the scream was muffled and not a sound came out, she could only cry and flinch away.

The master Necromancer reached out to his captive with his right hand and conjured a sphere of smooth purple light that began to flow out and settle into her with a crackling hiss. The girls eyes and mouth were still open wide with a silent scream as he ensorcelled her. He knew that she could feel the icy grip he had on her soul, so he closed his eyes and smiled his twisted smile, nodding slowly as a Nord woman to his right pulled back her hood to reveal blonde hair and kind face, one soft hand reached out to stroke the girls hair, tangled and matted from days in captivity.

The kind woman knelt down and smiled at the bound girl as one might smile to a lover, then simply ran a dagger across her throat.

"Shhh, you can sleep now." She whispered as blood poured forth. A booming crack shook the air as the light of the girls soul rushed into the darkened gem. Faint ethereal screams slowly faded into the wind and then all was silent.

The Breton gazed upon his servant as the Necromancer wiped her knife on the girls skirt before sheathing it back up her sleeve. "That one was pretty, can I choose the next my Lord Antioch?" She giggled in girlish delight and skipped off back towards the tower. The other Necromancers followed her inside at a more sedate pace till only he remained.

"Perhaps so." Antioch said smiling down at his filled gem, his treasure. "Soon."


	2. Azura's Star

Azura's Star

* * *

The Library, well, that old Orc insists on calling it an "Arcanaeum," a bit pretentious if you ask me, in any case it was exactly what I needed. When I first laid my eyes on the vast collection of artifacts, tomes, astronomical charts, maps, alchemy equipment, enchanting tables and graphs… Well, I was struck by the profound sense of being in love. I couldn't wait to uncover all the mysteries held within. Yet, there was one thing that bothered me. When I first walked into the library I was accosted by the gruff sound of the Librarian, Urug Gro-Shub, who if you ask is apparently the resident Daedric Prince of the realm.

"The Arcanaeum might as well be my own plane of Oblivion, disrupt it and you won't like the consequences." He declared when we first met, much to the eyerolling of the other mages going about their studies. "While you are here you obey my rules, understood? Number one rule: Don't treat my books poorly." He was shorter by half a head, but he still seemed to glare down at me.

"Yes sir." I managed to keep a straight face. I heard that there was no such thing as Old Orcs, something about Malacath's law being such that Orcs should die honorably before they age past their usefulness. I wasn't going to bring it up though, not yet anyway. "I am just looking for anything you have on soul gems."

"Ah, looking to do a bit of Enchanting?" Urag asked while glaring over at Onmund, "That boy better not put it back in the wrong place again." He muttered under his tusks.

"Not so much, well, not yet anyway, I am more curious about what exactly Soul Gems are, can you help me?" I wasn't sure how much use the old Orc was going to be, but he pointed over to a rather sallow looking man sitting in a back corner of the Library. He was reading a particularly thick looking tome by candlelight spell.

I was hesitant to interrupt the gaunt mage's studies, but the librarian just pushed me along whispering, "That's Phinis Gestor, Professor of Conjuration and Mysticism, go ask him." Having little choice, I did so.

As I neared the man I noticed he was Breton, his skin was darkened in some places, almost dead looking. I began to wonder if he was even human at all. Everyone knows the stories of all the undead beings that roam Skryim. Not so far-fetched when I thought about it. Not everyone believes those stories mind, but from what I've seen in my short life thus far I wouldn't rule out the possibility. He glanced up at me then stared down at his book and sighed before speaking in a voice that was smooth if not a little snide.

"You are the new conjurer I've heard about? Your little display is being talked about in town. Do keep your summons inside the college grounds from now on, the last thing we need is a war with the locals. Necromancy is even less advisable outside of the college." He seemed to be just flipping through the pages, not really reading any longer.

"Uhh, No, I mean yes. Necromancy? You allow necromancy here?!" I was more than a little shocked.

"By Sheor, of course we do! The archaic banning of such practices died out with the Mage's Guild. Truth be told the ban was never enforced here to begin with. Why, down in the..." He halted mid-sentence and coughed a little, then continued in a less excited tone of voice, "Necromancy is the study of the Soul itself. It is an integral part of most schools of magic whether people admit to it or not. It is a tool to be used. Of course, non-mages may not see it that way, so we don't go around flaunting it. How other Conjurers outside of the College behave is none of our concern."

That was a big blow to me, I was raised to believe that necromancy was an abhorrent affront to Arkay. An unnatural evil that disrupted the proper way of things. The living should eventually die, and the dead should stay dead. The ancient Nordic people practiced it, but no longer. I stared at Professor Gestor for several long moments before finding my voice, "You teach Necromancy?" I asked in rough whispered tones, almost choking on the words.

"If a student were to ever show the aptitude I would, only one has, but he has been missing for too long. I fear he is dead."

"I see… well… I was really hoping that you could tell me about soul gems." I pulled the small one out of my pocket to show him. "Ah, see, Soul magic again. Soul gems are an integral part of Enchanting and many other kinds of ritual based magic. Tell me, what do you know about the soul?" He asked me directly while gesturing for me to sit down opposite him. I obliged.

"I know that my soul is what makes me, well, me." I said quickly, fidgeting a little to get comfortable.

"Right you are, but it is much more than that. The Soul is power. The Soul is the essence of Power in fact. Souls are made from the Aetherius itself. The stronger the soul the more power you can squeeze from it. This world has been shaped by the power of souls. Objects of legend which were instrumental in the rise and fall of civilizations were all enchanted by the power of souls, beast, man, and mer alike.

That gem you hold is what we have come to call a 'petty soul gem,' it would hold the life energy of a creature such as a goat, wolf, or chicken. The sacrifice of one petty animal could fuel a spell, or an enchantment to protect you from harm or empower your ability to ensnare the senses of your enemies.

These are but a few examples, of course the applications are limitless. Imagine the power one sentient soul could bring, more? Just food for thought, right? Remember, at this college no one will be holding your hand, you study at your own pace. If it is power you desire then you will have to reach forth and grasp it." He smirked at the end of his short lecture and I felt all the colder for it. So, I just pocketed the gem and thanked him, it was getting late and I had an early day awaiting me. I had begun to wonder just what sort of education I would be getting here in the long run.

The next few weeks passed in much the same way, every morning we would go up the spiral staircase in the Hall of the Elements and a delicious banquet would appear for breakfast. How they pulled that off baffled me. Once we were fed and watered we would go to the Arcanaeum for study and to do the laboratory assignments we were given during afternoon lectures, which at this early stage was mostly learning basic runic structures so I could help translate any writings on the artifacts that were always being brought in for a modest stipend. Around mid-morning we would then go back down to the Hall of the Elements to practice with various teachers till lunchtime. That's when I had my first fight with magic, it wasn't anything like the stories, it happened fast with no grand poses and postures, then it was over.

Drevis Neloren, our illustrious Illusion Professor had stepped out half an hour ago. We didn't mind, we were used to the professors leaving us to our own devices. Onmund and Brelyna were taking turns casting calm spells on each other or trying to anyway. "Not quite Onmund, you have to be subtler when you disrupt the connection between the target and their aggressive emotions. If you try to brute force the connection into breaking, then it will resist and their resolve will only be strengthened. Illusion magic deals with intelligent beings, not just lumps of magic shaped into spells." She scolded Onmund and he scowled back.

"You are an insufferable know-it-all Brelyna. Just because you come from the 'Great House Telvanni' doesn't mean that you know everything there is to know about magic!" Onmund looked pissed.

"Oh, even J'zargo knows more than you. You hardly ever actually study, I see you pretending to know how to read." She sniped back without hesitation.

"I know how to read!" He roared, then looked over at me. I may have been staring at their argument. "What are you looking at?" He yelled at me. Uh oh, this Nord wasn't going to back down.

"Nothing at all" I launched another soothing wave of magic towards J'zargo.

"J'zargo thinks he should step back and watch this unfold, yes?" The catmage slinked back into the shadows of the hall.

"How about we just keep training, eh?" I offered to my classmates.

"I don't think so," Onmund stood up and brushed Brelyna aside when she tried to step between him and me. At the same time he launched a dark red burst of power at me, probably a fear spell. I dodged it and charged a ward up just in time to absorb a brief gout of flames. He was moving towards me fast, he had a dagger in his hand. That bastard wanted to kill me. I didn't have any time to think so I just dispersed my magicka into the air and sent it out down low in front of me. I gathering the moisture in the air and with a clench of my fist it froze into an icy sheet across the ground. Just before Onmund got close enough to use his dagger he slipped and fell. I threw my hand out and wanted him to hurt, a rock hard mass of frost magic had formed in the air, and with a blast of will it launched at his head, knocking him out cold.

"What in the name of Azura is going on in here?" The Illusion Master was suddenly standing next to us, seeming to appear out of thin air. "J'zargo, go get Colette. Atticus, explain." He commanded.

Brelyna was by my side in an instant, "Professor, it wasn't Atticus. Onmund attacked him first." She said this at the same time I said, "It was just a duel. What is the big deal?"

I supposed that was the wrong thing to say. "The. Big. Deal." He said each word slowly, not liking the taste of a single syllable. "You do realize one of you might have died? What if you accidentally hit another student? If you want to engage in such savagery, well, then, you can just go down to the ice fields if you really want to kill each other so badly. The Archmage will be informed of this incident." As he finished, Colette Marence and J'zargo came trotting in.

Professor Marence immediately cast the golden light of a Restoration spell at Onmund's head and he stirred. "He will be okay, just a concussion, he took quite the hit, what spell was it?" She blinked owlishly at all of us.

I spoke right up, "It was just a ball of ice Ma'am, thought it might be better than a spike." I held her gaze.

"True enough, a concussion I can heal at least. Do I even want to know what this was all about?" She asked resignedly.

"Probably not," I quipped, "Just a small dispute, nothing we can't settle later." I replied, done speaking about that idiot for the time being.

"Go cool off Atticus, I don't want you nearby when Onmund wakes up." Professor Neloren spoke quietly with only a hint of anger.

I really did need to cool off. I wasn't used to being around so many people for so long and there was a good pub in town. Making up my mind immediately I grabbed my cloak off the wall and headed back towards the Frozen Hearth Inn, very ready for a drink or five.

* * *

"Hello again," Nelacar called out to me as I hurried through the warm threshold, he waved as he got up from from his seat at one of the long tables. "I didn't get your name last time." He held his hand out in a greeting and waved for us to sit at the bench. I shook his hand as we sat. "Haran, please bring some Honningbrew Mead over will you?" He shouted out over his shoulder.

"Sure thing, hey, you are the boy that ran out of here awhile back, what happened?" Haran called back as she went to go grab our drinks.

"My apologies, I ran out pretty fast. Being so close got the better of me I guess…" I said sheepishly. "My name is Atticus, Atticus Odin, now officially an Apprentice Mage, at your service." I bowed my head at them then declared, "Drinks on me today everyone," tossing a sack with at least fifty septim worth of various coins in it over to Dagur. It was nice having a modest income, even if most of the tasks around the college were menial.

"Oh ho ho! So you are a big shot now then, eh?" Nelacar asked with friendly sarcasm.

"Just happy to be alive. I owed you all a mead at the least." I smiled, for once genuinely.

Then a loud bang shook through the inn as the door slammed open and an old Dark Elf rushed in followed by a burst of freezing air and puffs of snow. He turned around and slammed the door shut again. The Dunmer wore only thin black robes and must have been frozen to the bones but showed no sign of it. His crimson eyes pierced around the room gazing at each of us in turn. Then he seemed to settle into the warmth and sighed, "Thank Azura. A mug of ale please Bartender."

"Coming right up." Dagur said, then looked over at me.

"Yeah, him too" I nodded and waved the old Dark Elf over. He stood across from where Nelacar and I sat and leaned over the table on his palms.

His voice was dead as he spoke, "Thank you.. friend.. I've been on a Pilgrimage to the Shrine of Azura. It is one of the greatest treasures of Skyrim to be sure..." His crimson gaze was unfocused, he went silent for several long moments until Dagur came back with our drinks, and then the mer spoke up again, "The name's Faldrus." He seemed dazed and wore a deep scowl.

"Atticus." I replied, "What were you doing there?" I asked.

"Paying my respects to the mistress of Twilight…" His voice lowered until I had to lean in to hear, "Yet now all I bring are ill tidings." Nelacar's gaze seemed to the sharpen at this. Haran didn't look so happy either as she served us our drinks.

"What do you mean?" I whispered back, barely audible above the crackling fire.

"The horizon of Twilight has been darkened. The light of the Star can no longer shine." His cryptic words meant nothing to me but Nelacar went pale and gasped.

"It can't be…" The old Altmer muttered.

"What? What is it?" I demanded.

Faldrus answered, "The brightest star has turned as black as night. Go to the Shrine of Azura, speak to Aranea if you think you can help." At this he sat down, seeming to have been drained of whatever sustained him. The old Dark Elf looked so dejected as he took large gulps of ale, careless to what spilled around his mouth.

"I…don't understand." I admitted, and Nelacar seemed lost in his own thoughts so I didn't ask him.

"Azura's Star sits just under The Steed. It is Azura's center of power in this realm. Whoever holds the Star will be the hand of Fate." Then Faldrus began muttering under his breath so low I couldn't hear. Perhaps a prayer to the Daedra.

"What does a star have to do with fate? How can anyone hold a star?" I asked, curiosity growing.

"Everything!" Faldrus suddenly snapped. "Azura's domain in Mundus is Fate. So many prophecies could be unraveled if the Star is destroyed or corrupted. The end of everything as we know it."

That is when Nelacar finally decided to speak up. "Daedric Prophecies you mean." The old elf made eye contact with me and held it. "Atticus, the Daedric princes are evil. You can't trust anything this one says. We can take care of this ourselves." Now that got my attention. "Azura's Star is a Daedric Artifact, an indestructible soul gem." He finished.

"What do you know? Are we talking about a star or a soul gem?" I asked.

"Both, but not now." Nelacar went back to leisurely sipping his mead.

"Fine then, I am leaving, someone has to do something." Faldrus sounded anguished, but the ale only seemed to gird his loins as he stood up and made his way back out of the Inn, letting in another burst of freezing air as he shouted over his shoulder, "Azura help us all," and he was gone.

"Follow me." Nelacar said tersely and began to walk to the biggest room of the Inn.

"Are we really going to let him back out in that weather?" I wondered aloud.

"Come with me." Nelacar ignored the question as we entered his room and he went straight over to the bookshelf, I followed and stood behind him. He plucked out an old journal from the middle shelf. "This is my copy of our research notes." He opened the front cover to reveal a painting of an Eight Rayed Star that seemed to be made of a shining turquoise gemstone set into silver. "We must stop him before he ruins it." Nelacar spoke as he gazed at the journal in self-loathing. He flipped through a few pages to a chart that seemed to detail a ritual of some kind.

"Stars above, we were so close to finding the answer back then, but Malyn Varen doesn't have the final piece of the puzzle." He turned to the last page and there was an array of complex runic structures bound within some sort of ritual circle. I noticed daedric script immediately, but could only recognized the symbol for Apocrypha bound within the runes for Transform, Travel, and Communication. There was a red circle around a formulae of numbers and symbols that seemed to be hastily scrawled into the corner of the page. "No, he won't succeed without this. Only recently rediscovered." Nelacar's voice cracked and he seemed to grow tense, his shoulders shook slightly.

I placed my hand on his shoulder to steady the elf before he lost it completely, "What is this all about? Start from the beginning, what research?"

"We were working on a way to place a person's soul inside of an object without killing them. I am getting old and there is still so much to do…" He trailed off and looked down at me, eyes brimming with tears. "When we lost Veranda, I told Malyn we had to stop. I even went to the Archmage. We were expelled from the college, but Malyn wouldn't or perhaps couldn't stop. Last I heard he had made his laboratory within Ilinalta's Deep."

"So, you were researching soul trapping?" I needed to understand.

"Not quite, though a variation of a soul trap is part of the process. Have you ever heard of the term Phylactery?" My blank gaze must have answered the question. "Not many have. It could be called a perfect immortal vessel for the soul much like the physical body is. A seat of power from where the soul can reside for all eternity. True liberation from the jaws of Oblivion that eventually close shut on all of us. A rare and elite few have achieved this state of undeath, it is not a path to tread lightly. Now you understand the danger of our research."

I did understand. "That wouldn't be liberation, that is prison!" In that moment I realized what they had done. "You have Azura's Star!"

"No, I don't have it. Malyn Varen does, and I fear he has already corrupted the Star. He doesn't have the full formulae to stabilize the crystalline matrix. If it is destroyed, well then there could be severe repercussions. We must retrieve the Star and sever its connection to both Malyn and Azura forever."

We? Did he just say, 'We must retrieve the Star'? because it sure sounded like it.

"Uh, no. I don't think so." I backed away shaking my head. "What do you expect me to do? What are we up against anyway?" I had to ask.

"Oh, I guess around ten to twenty Necromancers. They tend to take the whole immortality thing pretty seriously. They might also object to us just walking out with their master's soul vessel." He was being flippant on purpose, I know he was.

"I am going back up to the college, I need to think about all this." I didn't bother waiting for a response. I spun on my heel and booked it back towards my dormitory room.

The College of Winterhold seemed to loom over me. The College used to mean something in Skyrim. It was a symbol of power that could keep our lands safe from all those who would threaten it. Being a mage used to mean something. Falion told me the old stories of great heroes, and how Winterhold used to contend for the Throne of the High King due to the sheer power the College would bring to the negotiating table. His disgust at the current state of affairs is why he always recommended against me coming here. "There are many ways to learn magic, and much better uses for it." He would say. "You don't need those hypocritical bastards."

Call me an idealist but I couldn't have resisted the College any more than a moth could resist the flames of a torch. What, after learning how Archmage Shalidor created Winterhold with a whispered spell, or when he single-handedly defeated the Dwarf Clan Rourken, whose King Rourken even wielding the bane of all spellcasters, Spellbreaker, was unable to prevail against the might of Shalidor's magic. Legends of the most powerful sorcerers is history have stood the test of time since the First Era, Legends that were born within these very halls. My goal was to sit among such hallowed forebearers of power. This was the place for me, I knew it without a single doubt. This world has a ton of problems, problems that could only be solved by power.

That things were about to become very real, and that I felt I was out of my depth, very nearly drowning in anxiety over the task ahead was beside the point. Azura's Star. That's the stuff of Legends. Necromancers using Azura's Star to fuel their quest for immortality. Could Skyrim survive that? I was raised to believe that the Daedric Princes were evil. Whether that is true or not is besides the point. Nothing good could come from leaving such an artifact to its own devices, especially under the influence of Malyn Varen.

I paused, considering that, powerful artifacts with a will of their own. I shuddered and pushed that thought aside. By the time I reached my bedroom I realized it was nearly time for midafternoon lectures in the Hall of Elements. Sighing, I just laid down on the bed and sunk into the mattress. My mind was awash with so many visions of heroic battles and gruesome ways I could die. Images of what could happen if I followed Nelacar on this fool's quest overwhelmed me until I fell into a fitful sleep.

* * *

Archmage Savos Aren stood over me as I woke enough to rub the blur from my eyes. "Hello Apprentice Odin. Did you sleep well?" He asked in grandfatherly tones of care.

I bolted upright, "Yes sir!" I said a bit too loudly. I fumbled with the sheets I had pulled over my legs as I struggled to stand.

"Calm yourself Atticus. I was just checking on you. I hear you had quite the fight yesterday." The Archmage said still patient and kind.

"It was nothing, Onmund attacked me, I defended myself." I stated the simple fact, then added as an afterthought, "Is he okay?"

"He is fine," The Archmage was searching for something as his gaze lingered across my face. "He spent the night in the infirmary wing of the Hall of Countenance. I have already spoken to him. I trust there will be no more altercations on your end?" His gaze sharpened slightly as his eyes lost their grandfatherly twinkle for but a moment.

I quickly agreed, and he nodded seeming to be satisfied. "Breakfast is already half over, you better hop to trot!" He called over his shoulder as he began to move away.

"Wait, Sir!" I called, "Do you know someone by the name of Malyn Varen?"

Without warning he lurched towards me and grabbed me by the shoulders, he gazed deep into my eyes. I could feel his breath on my face, "Where have you heard that name?" He demanded harshly.

I wanted to lie but couldn't for some reason, "Nelacar, Malyn is about to do something horrible."

"Of that I have no doubt, you best stay away from both of those mages, they are foul in their workings of Necromancy. More than one student has died by their hand." With that solemn judgement he turned and left the room, the door closing on its own behind him.

'What in Oblivion was that all about?' I thought. 'That bastard had me under some kind of spell.' I had to learn to defend my mind or any powerful sorcerer could enthrall me.

I never met the rest of the College for breakfast that morning, instead I found myself wandering back toward the Frozen Hearth Inn. I decided that running from fate was not an option if I wanted to reach my goal. When I got there Nelacar was waiting on the porch smiling as though expecting me. Two horses from the stables were already saddled, packed with provisions, and tied to the post next to the water trough. "The sky told me you would be here on time; the stars never lie." With that he untied the large dapple grey and hopped up into the saddle leaving me the black stallion. "Let's get moving, we haven't any time to waste." I mounted up and followed Nelacar out of town and towards the next chapter of my life.


	3. Blood on the Ice

Blood on the Ice

* * *

A harsh wind descended from the peak of Mount Anthor and swept across the snowy planes of Winterhold. As we rode towards Heljarchen the freezing wind came up from underneath our cloaks chilling us to the bone. Nelacar and I were only one or two leagues into our trip when I noticed a pathway just off the main road. It was a strange feeling when I saw it, like a sinking in the pit of my stomach. I've learned to follow those gut feelings. It led down to a lower embankment of the snowy range that seemed to cut through the cliff and form a gentle slope down. I stood close to the edge wary of the snow avalanching and strained my eyes till I could just barely make out what looked like standing stones in a circle. "Nelacar, we should check that out. I think I see something." I began to see a dark red light flash within the area. We couldn't pass this by.

"What do you see my boy?" He asked squinting, he didn't dare get as near to the edge.

"I'm not sure." I didn't wait for him and I made my way around and down the slope. I leaned back and let my legs carry me down as fast as they could go. Snow tossed up into the air around me as I plodded through the fresh powder. I saw a rise ahead with a clear path up, that was where I saw the standing stones. I rushed over and climbed up the steep hillside packing snow into hard clumps for footholds as I went. At the top of the rise was a ritual circle carved neatly into a stone platform, it resonated with power that still hung in the air centering on an altar. My skin prickled with whatever forces had been conjured here. I focused on the sensation of magic dancing across my skin and then nearly died of heart failure when a hand came to rest on my shoulder.

"Whoa, didn't mean to startle you, I was just going to warn you not to go into that circle." Nelacar had obviously beaten me up the hill somehow.

"How did you get up here so fast?" I demanded. Did he fly?

"Magic." Was all he said on the subject. "There are rune traps in there, be wary."

He was right, inside the ritual circle were at least five runes charged to go off with a burst of razor sharp frost magic. Featuring prominently in the center of the ritual circle was an icy corpse wearing blue silk robes. Frozen blood covered the area, crimson ice a stark contrast against the white land. Frozen arms stretched upward, blue hands fiercely clawed as if to grasp the throat of a long-gone foe. His young bearded face was frozen in a grimace of agony, and once dark eyes were faded into pale white by the icy ravages of time. He had lost whatever fight he had been in, that much was obvious. The whole scene was as surreal as it was visceral.

"Alright, here it goes." I muttered as I drew in my will and magic to cast a flare of light at each rune trap in turn. They went up one by one in loud cracks followed by showers of snow. When nothing seemed unstable I walked over to the corpse and checked his pockets for anything that might identify him. Besides some coin, the only item of note I found was hidden deep inside a pocket of his cloak, it was a really old book with faded script on the cover.

"Atticus, look at this." The old elf was standing next to a small altar with long extinguished candles decorating it. Formulaic circles of power were etched into the stone in patterns of three concentric variations contained within each other. Upon the altar were the shattered fragments of a pitch-black gemstone and a wicked looking dagger with a black leather wrapped handle, the blade had a deep red glow emanating from within.

I looked over the altar wondering if that was the light I had noticed and then held out my discovery. Nelacar's eyes went wide at seeing the book. On the tattered cover stood the title _Mannimarco, King of Worms_ in faded gold. The altar and its contents forgotten for the moment, Nelacar came and looked over my shoulder as I opened the ancient tome. The first several pages seemed to have been added in recently as a journal of some kind. Inside the front cover read, 'Rundi's,' and I immediately recalled the notice that was posted at the entrance to the Hall of Elements. Rundi was one of the apprentices that had gone missing well before I arrived in Winterhold. We read through the journal pages swiftly and I groaned at the trouble the apprentice had gotten himself in.

When I didn't speak Nelacar filled the silence, "It seems that your predecessor here ran afoul of that Necromancer named Arondil." It was all there in the first few pages. "They were working together on a way to bind spirits as permanent servitors, very interesting. They had managed to create a prototype staff but Rundi feared Arondil was going to betray him."

"It looks like he was right." I said thinking about how Rundi failed to protect himself.

"This book though Atticus, it's rare. Do you know what this is? It's no coincidence we find this now." He said as he gingerly took it from my hands and opened it to the first page.

"No clue," I started to say, but Nelacar began reading aloud in a chanting rhythm. I soon found myself lost in the verse.

He spoke of the beautiful towers and gardens of Artaeum, the home of the Psijic order, who were once counselors to the wise and fair kings of old. He spoke of two brilliant students who studied within the Psijics' fold. Galerion with a heart light and warm, and magic bold and bright. The other dark and cold, Mannimarco, who delved deep into the way of the necromance, entrapping and enslaving souls.

Galerion confronted Mannimarco claiming, _'Your wicked mysticism is no way to wield your power, bringing horror to the spirit world, your studies must cease.'_ Yet Mannimarco ignored the warning and continued on his dark path. Galerion tried to warn the masters of the Psijic order, yet they ignored the threat until it was too late. The monks of the isle Artaeum were slow to perceive the threat and simply banished Mannimarco, thereafter ignoring the terror he spread upon Tamriel. So Galerion exiled himself as well to create a new order, a Mages Guild that could bring magic to all.

He spoke of how the touch of Mannimarco's hand spread far and wide throughout Tamriel's deserts, forests, towns, mountains, and seas. A dark grip stretching out, growing like some dread disease, and of dark necromancers, collecting cursed artifacts of yore which were brought back to Mannimarco. The story told of how he used these long-cursed artifacts to become the Worm King, world's first of the undying liches.

Yet Galerion eventually left the guild, calling it 'a morass,' and I could see why, but Galerion beheld Mannimarco's rise to power and gathered an army of mages and Lamp Knights. He vowed to himself, 'Before my last breath, face I must the tyranny of worms, and kill at last, Undeath.'

Nelacar invoked the words of the final battle between Galerion and Mannimarco with the skill of a true bard, " _O those who survived the battle say it's like was never seen._ _Armored with magicka, armed with ensorcelled sword and axe,_ _Galerion cried, echoing, 'Worm King, surrender your artifacts,_ a _nd their power to me, and you shall live as befits the dead.'_

 _A hollow laugh answered, 'You die first,' Mannimarco said._

The mages then did battle with the unholy force. Waves of fire and frost clashed so fiercely that even the mountains shivered. At the necromancer's call corpses burst from the earth to fight and were destroyed by holy lights. It was a maelstrom of energy that unleashed rivers of blood, and both sides were decimated. Even Vanus Galerion died, felled by the power of the Worm King who was then forced to flee, leaving his dark army scattered.

Nelacar continued his high chant, _"It seemed once that Mannimarco had truly died that day. Scattered seemed the Necromancers, wicked, ghastly fools. Back to the Mages Guild victors kept the accursed tools, of him, living still in undeath, Mannimarco, King of Worms."_

He finished reading the story which ended with a warning to children against the Worm King's awful touch. He sighed and spoke in weary tones.

"The victor always writes history. This story is the crux of the matter that we are off to investigate. Many seek to follow in the footsteps of Mannimarco, including Malyn Varen. It is said that the King of Worms was defeated. No true seeker believes that. They believe that he exists even now, his influence touching hidden altars around Tamriel. They believe that Mannimarco has transcended life and death, that he is a god, and that he will one day return." He closed the book and was silent for a moment.

"Mannimarco was not unscathed that day and certain artifacts of power were captured by the Mage's Guild." Nelacar mused.

"The artifacts of the Worm King have appeared many times throughout history." He paced back and forth a few times then began speaking again.

"Rather than destroy them the mages couldn't resist the temptation to wield them. Every so often they enter the hands of those who dare and claim their power. Azura's Star is not historically associated with the worm cult, but it's power is a strong temptation for Necromancers regardless, so here we are."

"The story also highlights one of the primary flaws in Malyn Varen's plan. He think's immortality is a matter of power. Galerion believed in the same falsehood. Knowledge is the true defining factor of victory when all power has been spent." He finished his storm of thoughts and handed me the book.

"It sounds like you admire the so-called King of Worms." I wasn't really asking a question. I was deep in my own thoughts about power and how those who obtain it are remembered. Mannimarco obtained great power, by all accounts horribly abused that power, and then was defeated, or not defeated. I wondered what had caused Mannimarco to use his power for such destructive ends.

Putting it out of my mind I tucked the book into my satchel and grabbed the dagger off the altar and unstrung its sheath from poor Rundi's belt. It still glowed internally and I wondered just what sort of enchantment had been placed upon it. It wasn't until later that night when I lost sleep wondering whose soul was trapped within the black gem and sacrificed to empower it. In any case we decided not to waste any more time there and trudged back up the slope to our horses who were beginning to become restless in the strong winds.

We continued on and travelled far, the sun crept behind the clouds throughout the day until it hung low on the western horizon. We talked of many things on the way, of love, life, and prophecy.

"A part of the Prophecy of the Dragonborn goes 'When the Brass Tower Walks and Time is Reshaped.' It obviously refers to what historians call the Warp in the West." Nelacar interjected.

"That was the moment when time lost all meaning and many opposing historical events occurred simultaneously, they also called it the Dragonbreak." I answered, having read all about it in one of Falions books.

"The very same." Nelacar continued waving his hands up into the air, "Everything that we know as time ceased to matter in that moment. The Hero of Daggerfall was the focal point of the Dragon Break and was instrumental in the Miracle of Peace. Through the Dragon Break he simultaneously gifted a powerful totem to many different factions. It gave the power to control the mighty Brass Tower to everyone that sought it. He gifted it to those who would use its power to wage war across the Empire… The Kings of Iliac Bay were defeated, preventing a major war. Orcs became citizens of the Empire, the King of Worms becomes a god, and the Brass Tower also known as the Numidium itself was destroyed. Mannimarco used its power to transcend into godhood rather than wage war. It was thus that the entire conflict was nullified, everyone gained the victory they wanted. Peace miraculously reigned throughout the Empire from that day forth until the Great War. Well, unless you count the Oblivion Crisis or the Umbriel Incident."

"Why would the Hero of Daggerfall give such power to the King of Worms?" I couldn't fathom and Nelacar remained silent as we rode on. I felt as if I missed his point.

* * *

When we reached the Nightgate Inn nestled into the small village of Heljarchen the sun had just set, so we rode around into the barn and away from the wind and snow. We unsaddled the tired horses and I fed the two beasts an apple each which they decided was more important than being stroked. Forgotten by my steed for the moment I tossed the young lad tending to the manure a coin as we hurried back to the front with our gear.

"You heard what that merchant said about the butcher… We need to be on alert!" The voice came through the door as we walked in.

"Just stories, I don't believe a word of it." The second voice was gruff and deep, belonging to the owner of this establishment, I couldn't remember his name.

"If it's true then Windhelm isn't safe. A serial killer… Gods. Anyone in the hold could be in danger, we aren't that far from the city you know." The first man was rather short for a Nord. He wasn't in here last time I came through.

The bald and bearding man with an eye that looked like it had been gouged through the center stood behind the bar wiping at it absently with a rag. "I think we will be fine, besides only young woman have been killed from what was said, I think you are safe."

The shorter man seemed to be far along the waning end of his middle years, he was thin but the rolled up sleeves of his brown tunic revealed tight cords of muscle along his arms as I got closer. I couldn't fail to notice that he had an oddly curved sword strapped to his waist. "Those women were torn apart with their insides missing. That is not a normal murder! I for one will be extra vigilant." He said harshly.

"You'd be too drunk to notice if a bear snuck up on you." Was the sharp retort.

The bartender noticed us then and quickly changed the subject, greeting us in a slightly strained voice, "Hail, come and settle yourselves by the fire and I'll bring you something warm for your bellies. Ah, it's you again." He recognized me then from my journey to Winterhold. "We haven't gotten many travelers this season, good to see you again." I noticed the thin man had turned his back to us and was now wholly focused on his drink.

I spoke up first, "We would gladly accept that offer," and we wasted no time tossing our cloaks and gloves off after brushing some snow away. We sat on stools close to the large fire and suddenly the smells of cooking meat filled my head. The spit roast across the fire caused my stomach to remind me we hadn't eaten much that day. The licking tongues of flame curled up under the boar, reaching out to taste the simmering flesh but always coming short.

"My name is Hadring," the innkeeper told my old elven companion. "That boar should be ready in an hour or so. For now, let me bring you some hot soup and mead to warm your bones." His gruff voice didn't quite match his eagerness to serve, but we didn't complain. Soon we were enjoying steaming hot chicken broth and downing mugs of frothy mead.

I turned to Nelacar after we ate and drank our fill in silence, "Did you hear them when we first came in?" I asked quietly. Both Hadring and the short man, Fultheim, who is apparently the local drunk, were both minding their own business now.

"Did you ever think of using that Fire Atronach of yours, or even just some fire around your hands when you were about to freeze to death on your way to the College?" Nelacar asked instead, his mouth twitching upward.

"Shut up." I grunted. "I'm serious." No, I actually hadn't thought of that. I resisted the urge to palm my face.

"Yes, but I don't see how it is any of our concern. We have much more important matters that require our attention." He seemed much too concerned with his third helping of broth to bother with such trivialities anyway.

We fell silent as Hadring came from behind me and stabbed into the boar with a long thin knife. "Ah, she's just perfect now. Here let me slice you both off a good cut before I prepare the rest of this for salting and storage. The grizzled bartender looked on at the perfectly cooked flesh in pride. Well, one bite and I could see why. It was absolutely delicious.

"I was taught this recipe by someone who knows what they are talking about." He wouldn't say more.

After we were well sated Hadring rented us two rooms and Nelacar tipped him generously. When I got to my room I sat down heavily on the chair next to the straw bed covered by thick furs. I just sat and stared into the light of the lantern, my mind raced as my magic swirled in anticipation. Things were changing so fast. Was I ready to be out in the field like this? Killed with their insides missing… Then something underneath the end table caught my eye. I leaned down and found a tattered piece of paper folded into a tight square. I unfolded it, the creases were deep as though it had been folded and opened again many times before it was discarded, it read:

 _Beware the Butcher!_

 _The killer who haunts the streets of Windhelm!_

 _These calamitous times bring out the worst in people, don't become the next victim!_

 _See Viola Giordano if you spot any suspicious behavior._

Well, I decided right then that I had to speak with this Viola Giordano.

The night went by in a haze of restless sleep as images of monstrous beings with necrotic breath that spread death and disaster across the land danced across my dreams.

Early the next morning Nelacar and I found ourselves in an argument. I wanted to make the trip over to Windhelm, but he insisted that we had no time to spare.

Despite his numerous complaints we found ourselves heading toward the ancient city. I found myself far in the lead galloping with my stallion who I came to know as Jezbel. Nelacar and his dapple grey refused to keep pace with me, perhaps in silent protest.

"We will only lose a day at most, someone is murdering people and stealing their organs, aren't you curious?" I practically begged him to understand.

I had even argued that we had a duty as mages to investigate such a strange occurrence, but Nelacar seemed less than enthusiastic at the prospect. He called me a foolish idealist. Maybe he's right, but it helps me get up in the morning. You see, I am naturally a very curious person and I love to explore. Uncovering secrets is kind of my thing in this hard life, and I wont let anything stop me from doing what I think is right. Even if it means charging into a situation that I might not be prepared for.

"That could be a day we don't have." He was silent after that.

When it came down to it, I simply couldn't resist the urge to investigate the killer, the Butcher he was called. I felt an uncanny drive to uncover the identity of this person who had apparently driven an entire hold to terror. I had to know why he was doing this.

* * *

The City of Kings stood silhouetted in the grey skies of Eastmarch, 'One of Skyrim's oldest holds.' I considered. Fog that hung low along the cobblestone road parted beneath us as the clacking of horseshoes signaled our procession toward the old city. The misty air was illuminated by the faint glow of street lanterns that hung every fifty paces or so along the road. A man on a mule was gamboling along at a slow canter, carefully lighting the lanterns just ahead of us with a torch at the end of a long pole. He was stonefaced and stared straight ahead as we passed by. Despite his efforts only small swathes of the road behind us were illuminated. The sun hung so low in the sky that dusk strained my vision. It took all the hours of sunlight that the mid-Frostfall day allowed us to make the journey. When we discovered the grey haze of stone and civilization we realized the great bridge we had been looking for was right before us. The very same bridge that once carried King Ysgramor and his five hundred companions home from victory against the elves. Windhelm was perhaps the first city fully constructed by man and was built as a tribute to that victory.

The stables looked closed up for the night, but it wasn't that late yet. I expected a bit more activity in the area, but everything was deserted. Even the guards seemed to cling to the shadows of Ysgramor's Bridge so as to not be easily seen. We tied our horses under the thatched roof of the stalls and continued across on foot with our packs. Jezbel whinnied as we left them there alone. The black steed looked at me and rolled her eyes in annoyance. I'd have to come back early in the morning to settle up with the stable keep and bring an apple or two for good measure.

The moss-covered stone was slick from the misty fog, it glistened in the light of the torches on both sides of the large gates. Those ancient walls had stood against so many trials. The bricks were worn and cracked in places yet still stood strong throughout the eras. We passed through those impenetrable gates with only a suspicious look from the wide-eyed kinsman standing guard.

The first thing I noticed about Windhelm was that there were only a few people to be seen hurrying along the vast walkways of the decrepit main street. The vast courtyard led up to a peaked building with Nordic carvings along the stonework. There was a freshly painted sign on the front that read 'Candlehearth Hall.' As large a building as it was there were even taller buildings of dark and ancient stone that stood in rows on both sides of the central district. Stone and mortar seemed to rise up and press on the city streets with an oppressive weight. The few souls that rushed to complete their business had dispersed until only two remained near the steps leading up to the large tavern.

A Nord man in expensive looking furs was speaking loudly to a Dark Elf woman. She was waving her arms in the air, seeming to argue with the man. Well, he just seemed to grow more and more angry until he finally reached out to grab her by the arm. She pulled her arm back and lashed out with a swift kick to his groin and the angry man fell to his knees with a strangled groan. He looked up and snarled, seeming ready to hit her. He may or may not have, but I didn't wait to find out. A spell had already spread from my outstretched hand and ensnared his mind, calming the raging anger and hate that boiled just below the surface. Oh, did he feel hate. Hate that burned red hot, directed squarely at the woman. As calming energy surged through his mind he seemed to look around in a daze for a moment and muttered something unintelligible before hefting himself up and wandering off.

The dark elf woman looked towards us with a frown and then hurried away the opposite direction towards a lower part of the city. Odd days. He was too blatant to be the killer I was after anyway. With a shrug I made my way towards Candlehearth Hall and the old elf followed with a sigh.

Nelacar sat down at the bar and ordered a brandy on ice from the pretty barmaid. "What's your name young lady?" I heard him ask.

"Susanna," She replied with a coy smile and took a small mug off the counter replacing it with a large stein that she filled with ice from a bucket behind the bar. Her bosom became more apparent as she leaned over in front of him to pour a generous portion from a bottle of Colovian's finest. "Here, you better have a large, because you aren't having any part of what you're staring at." She quipped. I liked her immediately for putting the old mer in his place.

He waved me off when I said I was going to look around a bit. The inside of the hall was totally opposite from the hard and tense atmosphere outside. It almost felt as warm and welcoming as any family home. There was plenty enough to keep content all the patrons sitting around talking and enjoying an evening meal. I viewed tapestries depicting images of past glories, ancient rulers, and the beautiful fields of Kynesgrove as I trudged around the lower hall and up the stairs.

The upper floor was a common room filled with a colorful assortment of chairs and couches that you could just melt into. Again, the difference between this place and the rest of grey and drab Windhelm was astonishing. The sweet melody of a Bard playing the lute came to my ears and I was content. A large furnace made it feel like Ivarstead in the middle of Sun's Height. The heat quickly forced me to remove my cloak and heavy fur coat to reveal the college robes I wore underneath. The robes of an apprentice mage at the college are traditionally pale white with dark brown trim, not exactly inconspicuous. Even more so as they shone gently with power. I knew such robes were liable to attract attention in a place like this - they did, but it worked in my favor this time.

Viola Giordano sat upon a plush dark red couch close by where the bard was strumming away. I recognized her by the stack of 'Beware the Butcher' pamphlets sitting on the small table where she worked. I watched her make a few final deft strokes of her quill. It didn't take long before she looked up and noticed me. She blew on the just finished paper to dry the ink and set it aside before locking her eyes onto mine.

"Have you come about The Butcher?" She stared at my robes, "You are a mage, yes? Can you help me?" She asked immediately.

"Yes actually," I replied, "What can you tell me about him?"

"I've been following him for months now." She began to wring her hands together, "Well, not actually following. Trying to find him. Or her I suppose. The guards won't help. The people won't help. I'm the only one who thinks he can be caught. No one will help me." Her fierce gaze told me she wasn't going to just let this go.

"Why haven't the guards done anything about this?" I wondered aloud.

"They say they're too busy with the war, that is always the excuse Ulfric and his administration uses to deflect any responsibility for what goes on inside these walls. I say what good is winning a war if we're still terrorized by one of our own?" She declared hotly.

"Ulfric doesn't surprise me, that oathbreaker, but how can the rest of the people not care?" I asked much to her surprise.

"Oathbreaker?" She quirked her nose then forgot about it, "Oh, they care all right. Just none of them thinks to do anything about it. They say I'm just snooping around bothering people, but I'm trying to save lives! If you find out anything please tell me immediately." She begged of me and focused right back on her work. "I think someone has been taking down my pamphlets too." She muttered almost too low to hear. I went over to a dim corner and sat thinking on a wooden stool. A short time later I decided to act.

I walked all the streets and back alleys of the City of Kings that night. I was determined to uncover the mystery of this so-called Butcher. As I patrolled my gaze drifted around the dark and cold city that seemed so lifeless now. I looked up and noticed sharp icicles hanging threateningly far above the walkway. It was a quiet night, my footsteps were the only sound besides the howling wind. Every so often a guard and I would pass in our roving vigils, but those moments were few and far between. They seemed as fearful and hurried as the cityfolk, sparsely seen and offering no aid to their kinsmen.

Fear held my heart as I stalked across the stone paved roads and I shoved it down. I had to be present if the killer attacked again. I had thought to defeat the killer just as he was about to strike his weapon into the heart of some unfortunate damsel, saving her life and winning her favor.

What happened instead is that I heard a shrill scream a short distance away as I was walking through a neighborhood of manor houses. I grasped onto the hilt of Rundi's enchanted dagger and ran toward the large house on the end of the row with darkened windows. The door was locked and for some reason I couldn't blast or melt the locking mechanism. There must have been some sort of ward on it. I ran again and managed to grab the attention of a guard. We came back to the house and he gazed into the window, "There is nothing in there." He said as though I was wasting his time.

"Surely not," I gazed hard through the glass, the house was large and empty, I could see most of the lower level… and he was right, there was nothing in there. "So, it seems…" I trailed off.

The guard and I parted ways and I got another warning for wasting time. I had nothing, except I knew there was someone dead in that house, I just had no way to prove it… and the guard ignored my report. No way to get in the house and no proof means that I had failed.

Very early the next morning, some hours yet before the sun would break over the horizon, I stepped out the back door of Candlehearth Hall for a breath of fresh cold air. We would have to continue our journey to Ilinalta's Deep today and I couldn't sleep. I confess I was disappointed to leave Windhelm empty handed, and I was sure Nelacar was beginning to despise me.

That was when I heard some commotion coming from an alleyway leading through the old grave yard. I ran as fast as I could. There was already a small group of people there, and just one guard to try and deal with the whole situation alone. I saw a women in the robes of a Priestess of Arkay moving below by a gravestone, but I couldn't make out what she was doing. I had to get by, but the guard was holding us all back.

"Excuse me!" I called out over the crowd, but the guard just ignored me. That made me angry.

"SILENCE!" I shouted just as I saw Urag do when Onmund and Breylna got into one of their arguments in the middle of the Arcanaeum. I was about to yell it again when I noticed that everyone was staring at me. There was a shopkeeper with slicked back hair, a homeless woman that looked like she wanted to be anywhere but there, and another woman in rather fine clothes who were all scrambling for the guards attention, then an indomitable Viola Giordano joined the crowd and eagerly stared at me as well.

I realized they were all waiting for me to speak, "Yes, well, I see that you require some assistance here, I am a Mage from the College of Winterhold, may I offer my services?"

The guard's beard twitched under the iron helm, "Well, sure, I could use some help. As soon as we are done here you have to go report to the cities Steward though, we can't have just anyone claiming to be on official business. Then he waved me past with a look that came close to pity. I soon saw why.

My first sight of the murder scene made me want to scream. I shut my mouth forcefully with a snap and breathed heavily through my teeth. I had to focus hard on separating myself from the gibbering insanity that threatened to rise up. In it's place I summoned forth the calm rational parts of my mind necessary for conjuration. I needed to be cold and calculating to withstand the sight of Susanna disemboweled.

This was very different than the frozen over scene of Rundi's murder. That was so surreal… This though… This was very real. My mouth ran dry and sweat poured down my face despite the freezing cold. This was Thick. Wet. Blood on the ice, and by the gods I could feel a dark magic rushing through the air, the blood that dripped to the ground thrummed with power. Who could have done this?

The body was still fresh, likely killed when I heard that scream just a few short hours earlier. The smell of human gore hung heavily in the air. She had been torn apart by something sharp, but not a dagger. Large gashes split deep across the sides of her body, several ribs stuck out at odd angles from within the cuts.

"Agavar let you by, eh?" An old woman, the Priestess of Arkay, asked me as she knelt close to the body, looking into poor Susanna's eyes with the light of a torch.

"Yes, I have come to help investigate, do you mind?" I asked pointing at the cadaver. I had helped with the dissection of a draugr cadaver one day at the College. It was my least favorite task in my few short weeks there thus far, but I could do this.

The Priestess nodded and began to observe me closely.

I had to see if the rumor was true, so I grabbed a thin stick sitting on the ground nearby and used it to examine the wounds. "The ribs had been pried open to extract her lungs." I noted aloud. "There is also a diagonal cut from the right shoulder leading down her back." I held the skin open with the stick and saw inside, "There's only the frayed remains of a large muscle that has been cut out." I said clinically, "It seems the Butcher is taking people apart piece by piece." I concluded my observations dispassionately. There were many more cuts but I ignored them for now.

That's when I lost it. I couldn't hold down the rising bile in my throat, so I just ran over to the vacant side of the graveyard and made use of an old bucket.

Nelacar walked over after a short while and patted me on the back, "This is definitely the work of a Necromancer, not a normal one either. This is old magic, flesh magic. Can't you feel the wild power in the air?"

"Yes. I feel it." I croaked out. "We need to find whoever did this." I was shaking, I had a bad feeling in my gut. That dark power. That wild power. I had to know what they were doing. I had to know how they were doing it, and most importantly, why?


	4. Wild Magic

Wild Magic

* * *

It took me awhile to get control over myself, but I finally stood near Susanna again. She stared at me with cold dead eyes and it was all I could do to stay upright. The wild magic was like a herd of angry mammoths raging across the land, or a sabercat stalking it's prey unseen and unheard until it pounced. It was fire and ice. It was the deepest cold of Frostfall and the bright warmth of Sun's Height. The primordial force still roiled up from the bloodstained stone under my feet. The air began to thicken with anticipation and a chill swept through us. Acrid power gathered and boiled till it pressed against me, so heavy, nearly suffocating.

We searched into the darkness with wide eyes as a phantom cry drifted across an ethereal breeze. Gods, she sounded like she was in so much pain. I could just make out her faint call for help, as insubstantial as the air itself. The ghostly voice was fading away with each moment.

Eventually the remnant of Susanna's torn and broken spirit would be gone, there wasn't enough left of her to form an actual ghost. My magic was still reacting harshly with the forces that raged in the graveyard, a wild power that echoed out from the body and blood of that poor girl.

I had an idea and it was insane. 'The worlds problems can only be solved by power.' The thought came unbidden.

I focused deep and gathered my power, every hope and fear, every joy and rage, everything that gave me the will to live, to fight, to love, and to die, I let it all flow through me and into the wet blood with a force of will. My vision darkened as the magicka rushed from my body, but somehow I stayed standing. The wild magic plus my power would be the catalyst that allowed the sundered piece of Susanna's spirit to move across the world once again that night. Before dawn broke and the magic faded she would bring us straight to whoever killed her.

Frozen leaves from the elder trees began to swirl across the ground as the wind picked up speed. Faint ethereal screams rose again on a sudden gust that washed over us sending a shiver through my spine. I could tell Nelacar and the old priestess were both affected as well. Her knees buckled into a half crouch as she looked from side to side. Nelacar was standing rigid with his eyes shut tight, he felt closed off somehow. I looked around and saw Agavar had even drawn his axe and backed up against a wall with a clank of armor against stone. The gathered crowd showed a measure of intelligence and disappeared fast once things got strange.

The possessed wind took shape as it gathered leaves and debris. The ghostly gale howled across the graveyard and blew past me, my robes billowing out towards Valunstrad as it went.

Just as I rushed to follow, the Priestess of Arkay grasped my arm and held me in place. She looked up at me with solemn eyes, "That was not a good thing you just did. I will be moving her remains into the Hall of the Dead so the rites can be administered. Susanna shall not suffer from further desecration."

It was clear what the old Priestess thought about my spell, but I didn't care. I did the right thing, what I had to do, so Susanna could get her revenge, so a killer could be brought to justice… so I could unravel the mystery, I admitted to myself. I pulled my arm from the old woman's iron grasp and took off running, Nelacar and Agavar followed.

"What was that all about?" Agavar's mustache twitched once in irritation as we rushed towards Valunstrad, the Avenue of Valor, where the manor houses of the richest families stood ending with the legendary Palace of Kings. The guard no longer seemed phased by the phantom wind, which was one good thing at least.

"The forces at play here are dangerous, we must proceed with caution." Nelacar warned.

I gladly answered the guard who had the patience of a saint. "This murder fits in with the Butchers usual characteristics, does it not? She wasn't murdered in the graveyard though. If I'm right, then we are heading to the true scene of the crime." Then I muttered under my breath, 'She will confirm it.' The wind charged on ahead of us.

"Hey now, wait a minute, I can't just let you go breaking into a house. It's time to go talk to the steward… He will know what to do." The guard shouted after us as he suddenly stopped.

"You need some sort of proof to search the house, yes?" I called back while gazing down at the crimson coated cobblestones.

"Yes, but you don't have any…" He gaped as he saw what I had already noticed. There were spatters of blood dotting the stone paved road all the way from the graveyard straight toward our inevitable destination.

"Is that enough proof?" I had to ask.

"Let's go." He said looking mighty pissed as we stalked down the street to the old house.

On the way Agavar quickly told me all he knew of the few past murders and of the three witnesses:

Starting with Calixto Corrium, proprieter of the local museum Calixto's House of Curiosities, who claimed to be out on his early morning stroll when he saw someone running away from the scene. Strange.

Next was Silda Long-Stride, known locally as Silda the Unseen, a homeless veteran of the Markarth Incident. Some say she went mad after succumbing to Reachmagic. Silda claimed that by the time she found Susanna everything was already over. It was her scream that roused attention.

The last was Tova Shatter-Shield, who Agavar informed me was the mother of the first victim, she likewise arrived after the fact demanding answers.

The wind stopped blowing as we halted in front of the abandoned house. The clouds moved across the dark sky. "This is Hjerim," Agavar began in quiet tones, "it belonged to none other than Friga Shatter-Shield. The butchers first known victim in Windhelm." The revelation didn't surprise me, this was about to come full circle then. "Get ready." He said and set himself in front of the door.

With a sudden kick Agavar broke the door off its heavy-set hinges and glanced in with his axe held up defensively, "Alright," he said and moved across the threshold.

I walked in slowly behind him, the place was full of cobwebs and not much else except for some old furniture. It was dark as the cloudy night hid half the moon's shining. I cast a magelight into a nearby lantern and suddenly shadows danced across the walls. Nelacar's shadow trailed upwards growing in height as he made his way towards me from the doorway. My shadow hung low across the ground at a short angle. Agavars shadow stood perfectly still as he walked toward the open archway into the back of the house.

"Agavar!" I called harshly, as the wild forces disrupted the magic of my light. It flickered once, and then all went dark for a moment.

A strangled cry called out through the pitch black and my heart sank. Was he dead? Was I next? I panicked, and my breath came in short gasps. I could hear faint whispers, so many, they started to get louder. Then something brushed across my back and I jumped forward drawing my dagger.

"Calm yourself," Nelacar's voice came up from behind, whether he was talking to himself or us I didn't know.

I gathered my will enough to cast a new light, why was it so dim? It flashed on just in time to see Agavar roll over on the ground with a groan. "Ugh, that hurt, I must have tripped." He said holding his helmet with one hand.

"What in Oblivion was that?" I swore.

"You are the one that called up a spirit, don't ask me." Nelacar replied.

"Gods damnit," I growled and helped Agavar up to his feet. "That wasn't me." Was it?

Every time we dared give a furtive glance around it seemed that our shadows were following our movements as they should. Was that Susanna or some other spirit that haunted this old place? The floorboards creaked as we stepped over old rusted nails and half rotten wood. An old-style standing clock stood lifeless, no one had bothered to wind it up in quite some time. The curtains fluttered as a breeze passed through the room, and then the wind picked up slamming the door shut behind Nelacar, he didn't even flinch.

Nelacar began casting with intricate gestures of both hands. I could feel his magic gather around his will and stretch out, searching. "Detection spells are acting up," He said, only looking frustrated for his effort, "There is something here but it's avoiding my magic. Small, elusive, vague."

As I gazed around the empty room I noticed a dark wooden chest up against a side wall, and there was a dried spatter of blood across it. I grabbed onto the latch and opened the lid to find a leather book with a skull embossed on the cover. It was resting upon a great many copies of Viola's 'Beware the Butcher' pamphlet. 'I guess someone has been stealing them after all.' I thought wryly as I opened the journal and skimmed it quickly in the dim light of my spell, reading aloud as I went.

 _"The plans are coming together swimmingly. I've found good sources of bone, flesh, and blood, but thus far a good sampling of sinew and marrow have escaped me. No matter. The city is swollen with contemptuous fools who will be missed by nobody. Last night was almost able to corner Susanna as she left Candlehearth. Idiot guard showed up at just the wrong moment and I had to turn about, just out for a stroll, and so forth. There will be other chances, but the time is drawing near. I think back to my time in Winterhold. All the wasted minds up in their towers. They only explore the magic they already know. I am discovering new magic here. Something deeper than the cantripped shenanigans of fire and light. This flesh magic is older than us. Perhaps older than the world itself. I am tugging at the corners of the fabric of the universe, and where it bunches and folds is where I shall create my greatest triumph. One more attempt at the Candlehearth girl. She's proving to be a bit too cautious, but those strong joints of hers should contain the most exquisite tendons. Worth the effort. Tonight."_ I finished reading and closed the book, sticking it into my pack. The killer was logical and cautious, obviously intelligent. Why had he left such evidence lying around?

"Just out for a stroll…" I considered. "So, you were right about the flesh magic." I said eyeing Nelacar.

"Hmm." Nelacar grunted.

Agavar declared the lower floor to be clear and told us to wait there while he checked upstairs. I took the opportunity to look around a bit more, there had to be something we were missing. The old house creaked and groaned every so often in protest as we searched every inch of the place. There was a large cabinet and a chest of drawers over in the back room of the dusty manor that seemed promising. I was disappointed though to just find some more of those pamphlets on the shelving.

When I went to toss a handful of them away an eight-sided amulet of jade stone on a leather cord fell out of the stack onto the floor. I bent down and picked it up. Holding it close I could see it was worn down and very old. I could barely make out something carved into the dark green stone. Just holding it made me feel cold.

"By the depths…" Nelacar started to say as his eyes took on a glint that I had never seen before. "That's…It can't be…"

I was starting to see my breath come out in thin puffs as it hit the frosty air. My light flickered again. I wish we had brought torches. The shadows seemed to writhe and roam across the walls, growing and shrinking as my light dimmed.

"Do you know something about this?" I asked the old elf while holding the amulet up for him to see. My eyes darted around the room. Something was watching us.

"That is destiny my boy… Quickly, put it on." His voice was deep yet breathless, strained with his passion. I deftly strung the leather cord around my neck and stuffed the stone under my robes. The amulet was cool against my skin. Then Agavar came down saying that upstairs was a waste of time.

The jade stone grew even colder, and a strange feeling began to rise from within me. The breeze began to drift across my skin chilling me again. Odd. Wait.

"Isn't the door closed?" I asked and Agavar confirmed it.

The breeze quickly grew into a strong wind and the pamphlets and other small bits of trash began blowing around. Then the ghostly gale sent its debris straight towards the tall wardrobe by the hallway, air whistled through the crack between the doors. We opened it to reveal…

…Nothing. I'm not sure why I was so angry, but all the blood and death of the last days finally got the better of me. As the rage burned through me I just let it all out. I raised my hand and blasted the open cabinet with a tightly controlled burst of white hot fire. The inside of it flashed bright and then only ash fell away to reveal a false back leading into another room. I gazed through the hidden passage, stunned. I couldn't look away. How much more was there going to be? My vision was trapped by the sight before me. Within the secret room we discovered much more than just poor Susanna's missing lungs and flesh

There was even more than just the missing parts from the handful of reported victims this last year. The sundry body parts of dozens if not hundreds of people could be found littering the ghastly laboratory. The components were organized into many large baskets of skin, sinew, flesh, and bone. They sat all around the small room in a gruesome order.

There were even several corpses strewn about. Some broken skeletons, some bodies were simply skinned and hacked away at, pieces haphazardly left forgotten. Some bodies were skinned, some salted and wrapped tightly with linen cloth in a mockery of Nordic burial. The smell of putrefaction was pungent and overbearing. Calm. Cold. Rational. The smell. Oh Gods. Calm. Cold. Rational.

'Ayem, Bedt, Cess, Doht, Ekem…' I grasped onto my mind with an iron grip by visualizing the Daedric alphabet.

"How has he killed so many?" I wondered aloud while forcing down the rising sensation.

"Perhaps he's been taking people from the roads?" Nelacar remarked while holding up an oiled rag to his nose.

"Aye, travelers do tend to go missing around these parts. It could very well be." Agavar agreed with his northern brogue, muffled slightly with his arm in front of his face. He didn't dare come closer.

As the centerpiece of the horror was an altar against the back wall that sang with wild power the strongest yet. The old stone table felt alive in some twisted sense of the word. It called out. I felt it upon my chest.

I ignored the noise and instead stared at a patchwork woman that was resting upon the altar. She was seemingly stitched together from pieces of uncountable victims. Her eyes were mismatched, one grey and cold, the other a lush green, both shining in the dim light as they stared blankly up at the ceiling. Thick black stitches ran precisely across her throat and around her face along the top of the forehead and down each cheek behind the ears. It looked as if whole her face could be replaced by cutting a few threads. The stitching ran down her neck and across her shoulders and bosom, reaching down below her blouse in four precise rows, two rows picking back up along her bare forearms. Her hands seemed to match at least with twin stitches going around the wrists. They were strong yet soft and well manicured with long slender fingers ending in delicately pointed nails.

"Be careful, that altar is tied to old and dangerous magic, far older than anything the college teaches these days." Nelacar warned as he stared at the mockery of a woman.

Agavar took one glimpse then it was his turn to run off and find a spare bucket.

"Look at this," the old elf grabbed a leather-bound book from the altar, it had the same skull cover design. He opened it to a marked page, "A second journal it seems."

 _"17 tendons and assorted ligaments 173 fragments of bone for assemblage approx._

 _4 bucket-fulls of blood (Nord preferred)_

 _6 spoons of marrow (no more than 2 from a thigh)_

 _12 yards of flesh (before cutting)_

 _Star-scrying to the edge of the ice-mind_

 _look to the lights where the souls dance_

 _revealing the time when a spark will revive_

 _when the rotted unites under most skillful hands"_

A note was scrawled at the bottom of the page, the macabre grocery list was apparently derived from an old Aldmer text, as interpreted by the Ayleids and first transcribed by an Altmer. Provenance and authority unknown.

"This is more than you expected, isn't it?" I asked Nelacar.

"This is something alright. Now look here," he pointed at the carvings that covered the stone altar, many more were obscured by the patchwork woman, "these are old Nedic glyphs, barely recognizable after all this time, instructions, and here," He pointed to an eight-sided indentation half way along the side of the altar that seemed just big enough for the green pendant, "Altars of this design are over five thousand years old, perhaps older. I only know of one other." That surprised me.

"Where?" I looked up at him in shock.

"Later." He was good at ending conversation.

"Was it worth the detour?" I had to ask.

"For that, yes." He gazed at the point on my chest where my amulet was hidden by cloth then continued, "I believe the list and the poem reveal an ancient formulae, perhaps discovered by the Nedes and thereafter known by the ancient Aldmer." Then his gaze locked onto the patchwork woman. "Except his interpretation is all wrong." He seemed disgusted. "Nothing controllable would have come from this." Nelacar said slowly. "Come, we have to talk alone." He pointedly looked at the guard.

"Wait, we have to talk to the Steward about this, the Jarl has to be informed." Agavar wasn't going to let us get away from his duty. Resigned to talking later we quickly left the cursed house and traveled further up the Avenue of Valor then went through the side passage into the courtyard of the Palace of Kings.

Steward Jorleif was a rustic looking man with an impressive low-cut moustache that fell along his cheeks and down the sides of his chin. He wore simple clothing that one would expect more from a merchant than a city steward. "What is it? It's not even light out and I've already dealt with one crisis." He said as we approached him.

Agavar spoke first, "Sir, this mage has done a fair bit to help with the Butcher case."

"Has he now?" Jorleif asked. "We could use the help. If you want to chase shadows then it's fine by me." We just stared at him. "What's your name?" He said finally to break the silence.

"Atticus Odin, Mage of Winterhold." I proclaimed, feeling no guilt for leaving out the "Apprentice" in my title. Nelacar looked over me and winked. That cheeky bastard.

"Atticus, that's an Imperial name." Jorleif mused, "No matter." I don't think he noticed the slight widening of my eyes. I hadn't considered that before.

"Sir," Agavar spoke again, "We found a trail of blood to Hjerim, inside was…well, you have to see it. I can't believe it myself." The man looked disgusted.

"I see, so you have found the lair of the killer perhaps? And it's the home of the first known victim?" Now Jorleif looked interested. "That is shocking news."

"Yes, a secret room contains what must be dozens if not hundreds of… parts… from all the people he has killed." I couldn't think of a better way to put it.

"By Talos… Who could have done it? We have to find them." Jorlief quickly said and I almost smirked at his change of attitude, but that would have been unprofessional. I was trying to make a good impression.

"I might have an idea, but I need to talk to someone first. Do I have your permission to continue the investigation?" With official power I could solve this and start making a name for Winterhold again.

"You have leave to freely investigate the Butcher, if anyone challenges you then send them to me." The Steward started.

"One more thing, Sir, if I may?" I decided to push my luck. He nodded and I continued, "Seal off Hjerim, let no one in, the scene should not be disturbed, there is powerful magic at work." I had to talk to Nelacar about that room and the wild magic.

When I thought about the primordial force the amulet felt like ice for a moment and the strange feeling grew. It made me feel tense but I had to keep going.

Jorleif considered for a moment then nodded, "A wise precaution. I will consult Wuunferth, the court mage." That brought me up short - a court mage might cause us trouble.

"Guard Agavar," Jorleif was in full steward mode, "spread the word amongst the guards to cooperate with Mage Odin on this matter. For now I must return to my work, keep me informed." With that Jorleif walked off to an adjacent room with a large table covered by a map.

The three of us looked at each other and Agavar spoke up first, "So, what's the plan?"

It was time to move. "You go tell the guards that the killer is about to become desperate. Losing access to his laboratory will stir the hornets nest." The guard actually saluted briefly with a gauntlet over his chest as he strode out of the palace to carry out his orders. That felt pretty damned good actually.

"Come on Nelacar, we need to finish this." We were so close that I could taste it.

"Lead the way then if you know who is responsible." Nelacar challenged me.

With that I walked out of the palace ahead of them and stood in the misty night. Most of the city was probably nearly asleep at this time. It began to rain then, light drizzle turning into heavy drops. As the temperature dropped the rain became lonely flakes of snow that fell around me.

"Well, there is only one way to be sure." I stood there and stared up into the starless sky. It would be morning soon. We had to hurry.

"Susanna," I whispered, and thunder rolled across the heavens as lightning flashed. The wind was swift as it stormed across to the other side of town. A sigh seemed to echo through the night as we ran after the waning spirit, hot on the trail of her killer. We followed her across dozens of streets until the faint light of dawn began to glow in the distance. The wind at last blew a flurry of snow onto the porch of an odd building out of place in the old city.

"He's close..." Faint words passed away as the poor broken spirit used the last of her power and faded into the Aetherius.

Calixto's House of Curiosities was a strange place. It seemed like the owner of the establishment had decorated, painted, and replaced every part of the building until it was a hodgepodge of colors and styles, part Nordic, part Dwemer, and parts of various other Elven architectures.

I knocked on the door and there was no answer, so I knocked again harder. The same Imperial man with oiled back hair and a clean shaven face from the graveyard answered. He was pale with weary eyes and his clothes were ruffled. It looked as though he had been crying. "Calixto Corrium?" I asked.

"Yes, how can I help you?" He said straightening his coat.

"We have come to visit your museum," Nelacar jovially said.

"Ah! I see, it is quite early, I wasn't planning on opening till later in the day. Well…" I didn't say anything and we took a step forward. "Well, do come in." Calixto tried to sound welcoming yet never took his eyes off of me.

We walked in and were greeted by the sight of shelves lining every wall from floor to ceiling filled with objects and instruments, weapons and tools, reagents and ingredients, books and scrolls. There were tables and chests, display cases holding old tomes and mannequins wearing ancient armors. Every inch of the place was stuffed full of strange artifacts. I noticed an assortment of elemental salts and a daedra heart on the closest shelf, those were extremely rare. On the shelf under that sat several sharp looking iron instruments, a short curved blade, a serrated hook, a long twisting spike, and razor sharp cutting shears.

"What are those?" I nodded over to the tools.

"Ah, those were used by the ancient Nordic people to embalm and mummify their dead. My sister and I found them in a ruin not very far from Kynesgrove." He said wistfully. "In fact it was my sister who was the adventurous one, we found every item here. She was so proud of our collection." Calixto turned his back to us and walked over to another shelf.

"This here is a true wonder. The Book of Fate, which legend tells will show the fate of any who read it. No one will read the same thing from this mystical book. A rare few will see nothing written in it… No one is sure what that means." His voice was tight. "Go ahead, take a look."

I didn't want to even touch the book, but Nelacar took a peek. He just cleared his throat and gave a noncommittal, "Very interesting,"

"Do continue." I allowed and Calixto nodded then rubbed his face with a hand.

"This is one of the rarest treasures in my collection. Ysgramor's soup spoon!" He declared as he unveiled a two-pronged fork sitting on a small pillow, it was made from some deep golden metal. "I know what you might be thinking, how could Ysgramor eat soup with a fork? Well, if you have to ask that then you didn't know Ysgramor!" His laugh was hollow and swiftly died in his throat as he sighed and stared at us.

"Well…I also have a diverse collection of rare alchemy ingredients and gemstones. Maybe a haunted amulet or two?" He obviously wanted us to leave.

"Speaking of amulets, have you ever seen this one?" I smirked as I fished the green octagon jade out of my robes. The whole chase had been worth it just to see his eyes grow so wide they nearly popped out of his head. He gulped and tried to smooth his reaction with a deep cough.

"Well, that is interesting. Let me see…" I stepped closer and held it up for his lantern light to catch on the surface.

"Ah, I recognize it now," He glanced around as he spoke, "This is the Wheelstone. Traditionally a symbol of office for the court mage of Windhelm." If I hadn't known it was a lie, well I would have been tempted to consider that angle.

"I see, well, thank you, we shall be leaving now." I turned to leave.

"Wait!" His hand was paused stretched out toward me, "It is worthless to most, I will pay you well for such a specialty object, it would make a fantastic addition to my collection."

"I'll think about it." He seemed to deflate and nod.

"Do come again," His voice died as the door closed behind us.

I walked with purpose toward the Stone Quarter that held the bustling market district. Nelacar followed with long even strides.

"Now what?" He seemed content to let me take the lead.

"Well, I have a feeling he is about to murder someone else." I just had that gut feeling.

"He may try to flee, you've captured his life's work, he has nothing left." Nelacar gave the feasible alternative.

"I don't think so, we didn't actually destroy his work. He will be desperate." I wasn't sure if I was right but I gambled on it.

We loitered in the market as the sun rose and dawn broke upon on the City of Kings. Nelacar was sitting on the low brick wall over by a merchants stall that had an assortment of weapons and armor littered across its worn oak tables. He was talking to the High Elf woman in green that seemed to own it, and I was leaning against one of the poles that held up the roof of the doorway into an apothecary. I could still feel faint residue of the magic in the graveyard along the road behind me. I stood comfortably but I was eager for something to happen.

I looked up at the sun slowly rising higher and stretched, my mouth opened into a gaping yawn. 'It had to be nearly 7 by now.' I groaned and glanced over at the two elves who seemed to be smiling as they leaned toward one another and talked quietly. That's when a sharp pain burst through me. I could hear a grunt right behind me as something seemed to pull away from my back. I fell to the ground. What was going on? I was cold, and the amulet was even colder now. The sensation that had been growing inside me since I put the amulet around my neck seemed to reach its zenith, setting my mind and spirit ablaze, while freezing my soul to the bone.

Two things happened.

Magicka thrummed through me till I felt like I was floating, and I watched Calixto Corrium as he ran away as fast as his legs could carry him.

He held a wicked looking spike that was dripping with someone's blood. I vaguely considered that he was running toward the sewer grate, intending to escape down in the undercity. Then a burst of power shook the air and Calixto's head exploded in a shower of fine pink mist. Nelacar came running with orange lights coiled around his arms up to his hands, the lights dimmed as the remnants of his spell faded. Was he screaming my name? Everything seemed to fade into golden light right about then.

After some time, I could feel my heart beating. I could feel the air rushing in and out of my lungs. I was starting to feel warm again. My eyes hurt as they opened, I was still laying on the cold stone ground of the market plaza. I was covered in blood.

"Your blood this time," Nelacar quirked his eyebrow, "you nearly died, again."

"It's a good thing I'm hard to kill." I supposed this was going to keep happening.

"Indeed. The blade barely missed your heart." He looked over at a headless corpse. "Calixto won't be hurting anyone again."

"No, he won't." It was a victory, but I was unsatisfied. I hoped I would be able to capture him alive, I had so many questions.

"Can you stand?" Nelacar asked holding out a hand. I grabbed it and he hefted me up easily.

"Yeah…" I shook myself slightly and felt where the long and twisted spike had punctured through my chest after being plunged into my back. The skin was soft to the touch but totally healed. I had nearly died. It made me think of how Onmund had nearly killed me and I felt another burst of anger that gave me the strength to keep going.

"Careful, you lost a fair bit of blood. It took a lot to patch you up. Come on, we should get you back to Candlehearth, I want to take one last look at the House of Curiosities, and then we have to talk." Nelacar decided to take the lead. I was alright with that, my head was pounding. We made our way back to the inn and I sunk straight into my bed.

Nelacar rushed out saying, "We have no time to spare."

I held the dead Necromancer's jade amulet in my hand and wondered what it was, where it came from.

"Damnit," I growled, "The horses."


End file.
